by Irene Estep
"It is more than I could have hoped for, Lady Norwood. Perhaps during the journey you can tell me all you know about the estate, and what other changes have occurred since Denton replaced the former earl’s steward."
"Of course. It is settled then. We shall leave first thing tomorrow morning. Now," she struggled to her feet, "I should like to show you why I’ve been giving you the stare since you arrived. Come with me."
Lady Norwood placed her hand in the crook of Drake’s arm and led him into her late husband’s study. She indicated the canvas above the mantel and said, "The late Earl of Norwood."
Drake stared in transfixed fascination. It was like looking at his own image.
* * *
Claresta hadn’t slept well, having spent most of the night trying to understand Drake Lockwood’s cool rejection to her second dinner invitation. Perhaps he did not like being pursued by a woman. She didn’t have much knowledge of such matters. She wished there was a more experienced female she could seek out for advice, but alas, who did she know other than Nan that would come to her aid?
But Lockwood seemed to have enjoyed himself the previous day. So, she decided to give it one more try and stopped by the Clarendon with intentions of inviting him on another outing. What she learned from the day clerk was not what she expected.
She arrived at the warehouse sometime later in quite a taking. Poor Edwin received the brunt of her ill humor. "Where is the inventory on the silk bolts that arrived yesterday? And why has the apothecary not picked up that asafetida sample yet?"
She waved at the foul smelling air in front of her nose and slapped a manifest down on her desk. Edwin winced when papers and dust particles flew across the room.
She recapped the small asafetida cask that someone must have accidentally uncovered again. "Did I not instruct you to have someone come in and clean this office two days ago? For heaven’s sake, Edwin, can I not take a day off without everything falling into a decline around here?"
Edwin never knew his cousin to be in such rare temper but neither was he intimidated by her highhanded ways. He spoke in a commonsense voice as he went about picking up the scattered papers off the floor. "Mrs. Jordan is coming in this afternoon to clean. I sent Martin round to Mr. Clark’s with the sample, but his wife informs us the apothecary will be out of town until the end of the month, and she refuses to allow his vile smelling herbals in her house. And, you just scattered the paperwork on the silk from here to kingdom come."
Claresta’s lips pursed into a silent "oh" as she helped Edwin pick up the documents. When they stood, taking the papers she held, Edwin stacked them into neat order upon her desk.
"Now," Edwin said kindly, "do you wish to explain the true cause of your riot and rumpus?"
"Oh, Edwin," she said and slumped into the chair behind her desk. "I fear I have made such a bungle of things, as usual."
"Do not tell me the American was not impressed with the crush at Garraway’s and the ‘Inch of Candle’ bidding, or did you send him into transports with a tedious discourse on the history of the craft guilds?" Edwin lifted his brows up and down teasingly and grinned.
"For your information, I did not go near Exchange Alley this time, nor did I discuss the guild."
"Pray you might have been wedded and widowed by now had you used such restraint with Sir Pedigrew."
"And, how was I to know the gentleman would become so overly excited at the prospects of owning a plantation in the West Indies, or that the bidding would become so competitive, or that he had a heart condition? It is bad enough that his family blamed me for his death, but I did not believe you held me responsible for the horrible incident."
"Never!" Edwin said, horrified that his teasing led to any feelings of guilt on his cousin’s part. "Do not think for one minute the man’s death lies at your door, my dear. It was not your fault that the Yorkshire gentleman on his first visit to the City took such an interest in the workings of the guild, and it was he who insisted upon the merchant’s tour. Here, let’s not speak of it ever again. Now tell me what happened with the American. Did you ask him yet?"
Claresta knew Edwin meant did she present her marriage proposal. "No, and now the opportunity to do so may be forever lost. When I went by the Clarendon to ask him to escort me to the opera tonight, he and Shipley were gone and the desk clerk gave me this note."
Edwin unfolded the note and laughed. "He thanks you for a memorable day and says that he will never again look at the backside of a lion without thinking of you."
"Not that part." Claresta snatched the billet away and pointed at the bottom of the message. "There, where it says, ‘Must leave for the countryside on unexpected business.’
"What I do not understand is his sudden departure from the city, and why did Shipley not send word of where they were going?" Claresta complained.
Edwin leaned over her shoulder and read the rest. "’I look forward to repaying you for your kindness as soon as my state of affairs are settled.’ It certainly sounds as though he intends to return."
"Yes, but it may well be too late by then. I have less than two months left to fulfill my father’s wishes. With the banns to be called and such, I have little time to waste."
"You could always look for another prospect."
"I do not want another!" Realizing how passionate her outburst, Claresta stammered, "T-There just isn’t time."
"I see," Edwin said slowly. So, his sensible cousin had become moon-struck. "Perhaps the hotel staff knows where the American has gone."
Edwin did not hold much hope of such. It was plain as a pikestaff the man’s pockets were to let. He would have to be an utter fool to leave word of his destination with the hotel which he likely skipped out without paying his shot.
"The management," said Claresta, "was just as stunned by his sudden departure as I. Seems Norwood left before daylight and the clerk, when he awoke from his doze, found the messages along with one to the hotel stating that if they delivered the missives to the appropriate parties a settlement would be forthcoming."
"Ho, Ho! Messages, do you say? Should think the magistrate will be interested in reading them. I am surprised the hotel manager allowed yours out of his possession."
"Yes, well, they were certain that mine was to assure his bill would be settled in a timely manner." When Edwin lifted his brow, Claresta explained, "I had instructed Shipley to stand behind the debt."
"Ahhhh," Edwin said, knowing his cousin likely paid the vagabond’s rent. "You do get yourself into some singular situations. I don’t suppose you saw who the other message was written to."
Claresta lifted the second note from her pocket. "Since I settled Norwood’s tab," she said, confirming Edwin’s suspicions, "the manager was glad to hand over both messages to me."
Edwin read the name on the front of the billet. "Captain Mercer? Why the captain of the Black Eagle?"
"How should I know? I did not read it." Claresta stared at the letter as if tempted to open the sealed note now.
Edwin grinned. His cousin had scruples when it came to prying into other peoples’ affairs. The night of Claresta’s dinner party, the American said he’d arrived on the Black Eagle, and Edwin remembered thinking the only explanation was the man had been of one of the crew members he’d encountered in the dim corridors of the ship’s hold that foggy morning. There could be no other explanation since the ship had been in port since the previous day and the regular passengers had long since disembarked. He thought he could put her mind to rest as to the content of the letter without ever prying the seal. "I dare say, he must have worked his way across the Atlantic as a crew member. Likely, he wishes to make similar arrangements with the captain to return."
"Return?" The thought never entered Claresta’s mind that Lockwood might be going back to America. "The Black Eagle will be back in a few days to pick up that chamomile, will it not?"
"Yes. If you like, I could pass the letter along to the captain then."
"I think not," Claresta sa
id. She opened the top drawer to her desk and dropped the billet inside. As an afterthought, she placed the asafetida container on top of it and closed the drawer, hoping to rid the room of the acrid smell and prevent another accidental opening of the cask.
"Well," Edwin said, "if Shipley is with your American friend, I’m certain he’s keeping close tabs on him and will report his whereabouts to you soon."
With that assurance, Claresta brightened considerably. Soon she was back to her old self. She issued instructions at such a romping pace that Edwin despaired at ever being able to decipher all the scribbled notes he took to keep up with her.
"By the bye," Edwin said when she finally wound down. "Reggie was here when I arrived this morning. Said he came by to speak with you on a private matter. I told him you were due at any moment, but he stated he had urgent business elsewhere and left."
"Perhaps he got wind my recent prospect left town. Reggie will, no doubt, give me the Turkish treatment over it. You don’t suppose he had anything to do with Lockwood’s leaving?"
"I have known him to put the scare into a few of your suitors in the past," Edwin said. "But, your colonial does not strike me as the sort to be intimidated by a dandy like my brother."
Claresta smiled, for some reason feeling pleased by the respect reflected in Edwin’s voice for Drake Lockwood. "Well, I cannot think of any other reason for Reggie to visit me, unless it is to borrow money or apologize for his ruse the other evening."
Since Edwin had not heard of the events after his departure that night, she filled him in on the details. He laughed when she told him of her final declaration before leaving his mother and brother. She only hoped she would not have to recant her hasty declaration to marry Drake Lockwood.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lord Westhaven drew his phaeton into Grosvenor Square at the same time as the gentleman who’d bought up his gambling notes. It had surprised Reggie that Atwell Baines had invested his blunt on someone he predicted would be punting on the River Tick to pay pall-bearers for his own funeral.
Handing the reins to his groom, Reginald stepped to the pavement and looked down his nose at the vulgar man. It would be rather convenient owing all to one person were it not so disconcerting to be unacquainted with the man’s reasons for assuming his notes.
"’Tis quite outrageous of you to dun me at my residence, Baines."
"No more so than for you to avoid me these last few days, Westhaven."
"I told you I’d have your money soon."
Baines bowed with acerbic deference. "Soon is such a vague time frame, my lord."
"Now see here--"
A shutter snapped open on the townhouse next door, and Baines said, "Shall we go inside and conduct our meeting in private, or would you prefer the neighbors to become privy of our business arrangements?"
Reluctantly leading the uninvited guest into his home, Reggie left word with the butler that they were not to be disturbed. Such a mandate would not deter his mother should she become curious but, thankfully, she was making calls and would not return for quite some time.
Closing the library door behind them, Lord Westhaven grudgingly offered Baines a brandy. When his cousin’s former employee declined, Reggie poured a dollop for himself and downed it quickly. He refilled his glass and took the seat behind the richly polished mahogany desk. His prominent position made him feel slightly more in control. Ironically, the Chippendale desk with carved heads of philosophers adorning the corners was one of the few objects not sold off to satisfy his late father’s creditors.
After taking another bracing sip from his brandy glass, he said, "I should think after our dealings in the past that you would have come to trust me, Baines."
The man’s peppered brows arched toward his receding hairline. "Dealings, my lord?"
"Well, you know," Reggie said, unsettled by the unnatural lack of regard this under-bred had shown since acquiring his notes. Baines’ disposition had always been too top-lofty. Lord Westhaven thought to bring him down with a reminder of past disingenuousness. "It was I who talked Miss Huntington out of sending for the magistrate after she discovered the funds missing from her father’s company."
From the piercing look Baines gave him, Reggie realized that he should be paying the rotter Spanish coin rather than antagonizing him. He added rather weakly, "You might have gone to the gaol but for me."
"I might have gone to the gaol? I hope you do not mean to deny your own part in that debacle. Had you not become so blasted greedy, I might never have been found out. The larger transfers were more difficult to hide. Besides," Baines added with obvious disgust, "you should have found some way to keep the nosy chit away from the warehouse and out of affairs meant for men only. Had you done so, you might not find yourself in your current difficulties."
Reggie blushed profusely. The large transfers had benefited Baines as much as himself. Otherwise how did one of his ilk become so well to do? Drat the man for making him the scapegoat for Baines’ own stupid blunder. Too bad, Reginald thought, that he could not toss the make-bate out on his ear and wash his hands of him for good. Instead, he must play Tom Toady for a while longer. "I suppose you are right. What do you wish from me? You know I cannot pay up until the assets of Gilbert and Huntington are in my hands. Of course, Lord Castle is having a card party tonight. Not deep pocket stuff, mind you, but I could probably pick up a few groats if you could lend--"
"I am a particularly patient man, as you know, however, I’m not stupid," Baines said. "Besides, there is another investor to consider, one who is less tolerant of your situation than I."
"Another? Blast it, man. Are you trying to tell me I am under the threat of being maimed by some heavy-handed moneylender?"
"A broken leg or a busted rib? Tsk, Tsk, Lord Westhaven, why ever would you suggest such?" Just as the color returned to Lord Westhaven’s face, Baines added, "A gentleman is much more subtle in his dealings than that. But, accidents do happen, you know."
Baines took great satisfaction from the beads of sweat that popped out on the popinjay’s forehead. If it were left to him, he would have hired a cutthroat to collect from his lordship’s hide long ago. The incomprehensible chicanery of his benefactor was quite beyond Baines. The man had employed him to discover the financial hodgepodge of creditors and relieve them of Lord Westhaven’s liabilities, but he did nothing more than predict dire eventualities should his lordship fail to pay the piper.
"I had assured him that your betrothal to Miss Huntington would be published in the Morning Post long before now," Baines continued. "I cannot tell you how uncertain your future should she become engaged to another."
Reggie scoffed nervously, "She won’t."
Baines gave him a beady-eyed glare that made Reggie down the rest of his brandy and squirm in his chair. "How can you be so certain? She and the new Lord Norwood seem to have become very cozy. They were seen taking the sights together only yesterday."
"Norwood?" Reggie wondered where Baines got such information. In spite of Claresta’s declaration, he felt certain she had not made her proposal to the American. And now it looked as though she would not get another chance. "I’m surprised you refer to the man by title. Did you not tell me yourself that you believed his contentions a sham?"
"What I believe and what the man may be able to prove are two different things. But do go on and tell me what you know."
Reggie leaned forward as if delivering a great secret. "Drake Lockwood left the Clarendon early this morning and did not tell anyone where he was going. I say, does that sound like the conduct of a gentleman?"
When Baines did not respond, Reggie continued, "Therefore, there will be no wedding. And since my cousin has pretty much depleted all other prospects, she will either have to accept my offer or forfeit everything."
Seeing the slow smile that spread across Baines’ face, Reggie began to relax for the first time since entering the room. He leaned back in his chair and drained the brandy glass. He would get another reprieve fr
om his major creditor.
After Baines left, Lord Westhaven pulled a black jewel case from his pocket, opened it and took out a sapphire stickpin. He could have offered it to Baines for collateral, but the man would probably have taken it on account and not given him the loan he needed. Reggie had a good feeling about the game at Castle’s tonight.
He twisted the fine piece of jewelry, examining it in the light. He’d coveted the stickpin many times over the years, a gift to his late uncle from his wife, Mary.
The usurer on Clarges Street probably would only give him a fraction of the value, but it would be enough to stake him to several games of play. The stone sparkled in the light and seemed to be winking wickedly at him for his immoral act.
He felt a twinge of guilt for taking the jewel case from his cousin’s house, but she really should take more care of such valuables. He had never actually stolen anything before, discounting the money Baines gave him to keep his mouth shut about embezzling from Gilbert and Huntington. But, tomorrow he would recover the article and return it to Gilbert House, and no one would be the wiser.
* * *
Claresta still suffered a case of the blue devils. Two weeks had gone by and she had received no word from Shipley or the American. Her father’s jewelry case was missing, and she could not remember if Norwood took it with him when he left that night. Heaven forbid if she should mention it to Nan. It would send the woman into paroxysms, and then she would demand they call in the magistrate. And what good would that do? Lockwood could just say he’d only decided to take her up on her offer to borrow the jewelry. She’d been duped and worse, the prospects of fulfilling her father’s decree began to look more and more hopeless.
Not one to sit idly by and allow fate to take its course, Claresta’s restlessness drove her to her writing table. She decided to compose a list of options, hoping to come up with something to elude her destiny.